Isis' home was the picture of efficiency and serenity. Neither the queen nor her head of household would have it any other way. Even were that not the case, her staff took far too much pride in themselves and their work to consider less. Even in the most dire of circumstances, they functioned in a calm, peaceful, and competent manner. They were the descendants of her own long dead priests and priestesses. Such a history demanded nothing less than perfection. Their ancestors counted on them to continue the good family name, and they would not think of facing them in Duat having to admit to not living up to expectations.
Thus, when her usual afternoon glass of wine wasn't delivered on time, it was enough for Isis to take notice. A minute or two might not have been much to raise concern, but when a full quarter of an hour had passed, she knew something wasn't right. More puzzled than perturbed, she left her sitting room to see what was causing the delay.
Servants were fluttering everywhere, muttering about an afreet. Even Fatima seemed to be flustered. Her staff were superstitious by nature and nurture, and she was no different. They'd all met Set, after all.
"There is no explaining it any other way," Isis' head of household insisted. "Things are moving around where they shouldn't be, some of them right after they were put back. Perhaps you should call Bes." With a wave of her arms, she hurried to the other side of the room, as she saw something else that was clearly out of place. "Before the rest of them get scared and want to leave. I, of course, will stand by to protect your home as always." She made a sign to ward off the evil eye, and left before the queen could respond.
Isis curled her fingers under her chin, the index tapping her lips. When Fatima was out of sorts, this did brook investigation. She hardly thought Bes' particular talents were required. However, she was fairly certain there was a mischievous spirit about.
A moment later, she was leaning against doorway of the room her instincts had correctly brought her to.
"So, you are responsible for my wine being late today." Her voice and eyes held a hint of amusement despite her words. She crossed her arms in mock anger as her daughter looked up, startled. "Fatima will have your skin if she catches you, Kit Kat. You have put the entire household in quite a state, you know."